


pushing forty, not fifty

by saunatonttu



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, or rather canon universe is altered in some ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5038582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doflamingo and his mid-life crisis lead to sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pushing forty, not fifty

**Author's Note:**

> I don't kNOW

The kid’s scrawny for a sixteen-year-old. That’s the first impression Doflamingo has of Trafalgar Law, when he comes to his base with grenades strapped to his chest and a face as grim as the reaper that had sought out Doflamingo’s little brother.

 “Let me join you,” the kid says, and he looks like he has been drained of everything that mattered, everything that would have made him a functional person, and Doflamingo finds that it’s easy to relate to that expression. The brand of hatred that has been etched into the brat is as obvious as if it were visible.

Intriguing. And while Doflamingo doesn’t really care much for new recruits after a betrayal as deep as his last Corazon’s, he takes an interest in the case of Trafalgar Law and accepts him with a careless shrug and a glance towards Trébol and Diamante. It helps that Law somehow has eaten the fruit that Doflamingo has been searching for so long – the Ope Ope Fruit, the one that could grant someone immortality if the fruit’s possessor so wishes.

 

 

Law is quiet for a teenager. It’s the first thing Doflamingo learns about him after some days of watching him practice with Diamante and Trebol – well, okay, the first thing Doflamingo sees are the survival skills Law has developed somewhere along the way, the martial art Law’s postures comply with. He’s no master, but he does well enough against Diamante and Trebol, and his stamina is certainly something to commend for.

Law’s movements are fluid, quick, weak in power, but for escape they are useful enough. The raw potential is there, especially when the fruit’s power is accounted for, and Doflamingo smiles as he watches Law hold onto his knees and pant, out of breath after a long session.

Diamante and Trebol glance at each other, and Doflamingo hums. They see it too, don’t they? The potential – the kind that made them take Doflamingo under their wings all those years ago before his rise to the top. It’s strange to see it now in a teenager with eyes golden like the treasures simplest pirates seek to capture.

But, anyway, amongst these instances, Doflamingo learns that Law is a quiet, somber individual, unless aggravated – and oh boy do Baby 5 and Buffalo aggravate him. Their arguments are loud, especially the ones between Baby 5 and Law. Doflamingo sometimes amuses himself by listening to those. Kids can be so lively, he thinks, and it’s almost like a real family.

 

Law’s quiet when he reads, and he does that a lot to keep up with newest advancements in the medical field. He sometimes makes a comment that’s something like “is this one a complete moron”, but he quiets down quickly again if he doesn’t have enough reason t start nagging about cancer cells and whatever it is that the researcher got wrong in his humble opinion.

 Law is a capable doctor as it is, his hands used to dealing with several kinds of injuries, unwavering even in most severe situations. It’s amazing, Doflamingo thinks, since Law doesn’t look like someone most people would seek out to get treatment for. Experiments on himself? It doesn’t seem unlikely.

Doflamingo is busy himself, making arrangement for all of them to leave for Dressrosa, but he still has the time to notice the developments within his family. Baby 5 and Buffalo have settled to take Law into their group, being around the same age, and while they don’t always get along, they have something like tentative friendships between them. And with Dellinger, who’s a bit younger than the other three, the next generation looks promising.

That’s one less issue on Doflamingo’s mind, at least.

 

Getting over Rocinante’s death and following death hasn’t been the easiest task bestowed upon him, but he manages it somewhat. The loss is a raw wound that may not ever heal, but Rocinante had brought it upon himself, very much like most others that Doflamingo killed himself.

The smell of tobacco is always there, even though none of them smoke – it had been Roci’s vice, and his only. Doflamingo almost believes it’s Rocinante’s one last effort at ruining him, though the role of a vengeful spirit doesn’t quite suit his little brother.

Luckily his return to Dressrosa is imminent, glowing in the horizon of his near future as well as the amount of blood that will have to be shed for the sake of regaining the seat of his throne.

 

Tsuru hasn’t come after them since Rocinante’s death, which may be a sign that there are no other spies in his crew. Which is all fine and dandy, though it makes a pre-Dressrosa life a little dull. Which leads Doflamingo to watch over Law’s studies and training.

The Ope Ope Fruit is suitable for the kid, whose hands are steady with both scalpels and swords alike. He doesn’t really have an idea how to use the fruit to its full extent yet, though; understandable, considering Law has been isolated from people for a long while even before gaining the fruit’s powers.

Lad had been reluctant to share it, but with Diamante and Trébol casting judgmental looks at the white marks that taint his dark skin, he hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter. The story of Flevance was familiar to Doflamingo and his executives, so Law didn’t have to explain all that much about what had gone down there. Not that he even wanted – the sheer horror that crossed his eyes at the mention of the fires that had been set was enough for Doflamingo to wave the unnecessary parts off.

After escaping the City amongst the bodies that were carried off – Law’s eyes turn cold and distant every time this is mentioned – he spent the following years running around trying to survive. A weak child with nothing but rumors to go by. The Ope Ope Fruit had seemed like a good option, Law had told, picking at his nails as he looked down at his plate. So he had gone for it, fishing out any information he could get, and by some stroke of luck he got it.

Law didn’t mention the body count, but Doflamingo knew – still does with the surety of someone that has committed a fratricide – it must be in the double digits at least. Deals regarding that Fruit tended to attract attention, legal or illegal.

It was a bit hard to believe a fourteen-year-old that Law, according to himself, had been back then would be able to snatch a Fruit without a problem, but unlikelier things had happened before. Like a ten-year-old killing his own father while said father held onto the ten-year-old’s baby brother.

All in all, the story is satisfactory enough, especially with the addendum of “I came here, since your reputation precedes you” and a look of steely determination that’s laced with the years-long bitterness. Doflamingo has never been immune to a certain level of flatter, for he too is but a man. Generally better than most men, but still a man. With royal, world-class blood in his veins.

So, the kid with the Fruit that Doflamingo has been thirsting after for such a long time isn’t obnoxious. Backed up with talent for picking bodies apart, Law’s a good candidate for the empty Heart Seat – for a while, anyway, before it’s time for the Fruit’s power to be fully utilized.

Doflamingo smiles. It’s a pity, honestly. Law’s a perfect fit to their family, and had he not come for them, there’s a chance they would have found him before long, either via newspapers or by coincidence.

Fate’s a funny thing like that.

 

 _Reconquista_ , as Doflamingo calls taking over Dressrosa, goes smoothly and without a hitch; sure, some of King RIku’s foot soldiers are stubborn to a fault, but Sugar’s powers ensure that they are hidden away from the unsuspecting society’s eyes. _Mostly_ everything’s fine, and Doflamingo’s name is hailed throughout the kingdom as the savior of people.

 It’s really the opposite, and Doflamingo finds amusement in how easily the people bow to him. These people are _made_ to be ruled, and who is more fit to do so than him? No one, that’s who.

Royal life suits his crew well, too.  With the title of the Warlord on him, there is no chance of the Government running over to help the Dressrosan people. Monet, who has been working undercover, resettles into their lives, which Sugar likes very much. Baby 5 and Buffalo, as well, since they Monet has been like an elder sister to them.

Law is made of more stubborn material, and Monet has good time teasing the boy for well-timed cracks in his voice as well as pimples that don’t leave him (or Buffalo and Baby 5) alone. He responds with annoyed huffs and glares that only make her cackle softly.

_Silly brats._

 

It’s understandably creepy to realize one day, several years later, that Trafalgar Law, the scrawny kid from back then, is… well, to put it in words of a lower class member, _hella hot_. It’s weird, because Doflamingo never once considered Law to be particularly striking when puberty had him at its mercy, but _holy fucking shit_ did Law turn out okay after that.

 But in his early twenties, Law has grown out of the awkwardness, muscles more toned and skin healthier-looking. Not to mention his eyes – they are golden, sharp and intelligent, holding hints of either sarcasm or obvious indifference depending on who he converses with. They are intelligent eyes, ones that have the ability to make a person uneasy and squeamish if they stare at you for a while.

 Doflamingo likes those eyes, simply for how expressive they can be if someone gets to Law. It’s rare, but when Law’s _really_ pissed off, the golden glow turns into a burning blaze that’s hot as _hell_.

There’s plenty of more attractive things in Law, Doflamingo finds. Long, slender legs, for one thing, hugged by tight denim that showcases the slight curve of his ass. There’s not much of it, but it’s enough to be something worth acknowledging.

 And acknowledge Law’s ass Doflamingo does.

 

It’s infuriating, the way Law’s lithe but impressive body makes heat gather in Doflamingo’s belly. Dressrosa’s constant high temperature has Law often strip off extra garments to the point where he has only his pants (maybe some underwear beneath) and a black, unzipped coat. It leaves plenty of bare skin visible, showing off the tattoos Law has gathered onto himself during the years, and well. It’s a sight that could dehydrate just about anyone, in Doflamingo’s defense.

He’s not particularly ashamed of the way blood rushes downwards to his cock, since shame is a feeling that he has long since stopped associating himself with. Untimely erections aren’t exactly anything new. What _is_ new is that Doflamingo reacts that way to someone that much younger than him – fifteen years, was it?

Vergo calls it an early middle-life crisis when Doflamingo mentions it in passing. “It’s completely normal,” Vergo adds in that level voice of his, which drives Doflamingo up the wall _because he does **not** have a fucking middle-life crisis. _

“You just happen to stare at Law’s ass for sheer comedic relief, then?” Vergo sounds faintly amused, although a little distracted as he doesn’t have that much time to gossip with his boss. “Doffy, I may be far away, but I’m not a fool.”

 “Oh, fuck you,” Doflamingo rolls his eyes at the unimpressed snail phone. He’s partially distracted by the pulsing rush of blood in his dick, but he’ll keep it to himself for the time being. “It’s just been a while since I bedded anyone. Nothing more than that.”

 “As long as you’re sure,” Vergo’s voice remains neutral, as does the snail’s expression before Doflamingo. There’s something stuck to the snail’s equivalent for a face, but Doflamingo pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off,” he scoffs and cuts the conversation short with that, disconcertingly aware of the raging erection between his legs.

Fuck it.

 

It’s somewhat amusing for him when the situation repeats itself when he’s talking to his four top executives – Pica, Trébol, Diamante, and Law himself. Law’s coat hangs open and loose as usual, tan skin beautiful under the Dressrosan sun. The scars Law has sustained from running on Doflamingo’s errands are visible, too, some of them deep and visible while some have almost healed into invisibility.

Okay, Doflamingo has to admit again as his cock awakens like a fucking Phoenix bird, he’s really fucking hot.

 It doesn’t stop at that seductive midriff or even at the black ink that curls around Law’s chest and arms like snakes.

 Doflamingo would be annoyed if it weren’t so amusing to watch the four executives exchange looks between one another as they try to guess the reason for Doflamingo’s erection that his capris do absolutely nothing to hide. It’s a little like watching a train wreck happen. The horror – and admiration? – is so obvious he can taste it.

Law’s eyes speak for him. The little shit _knows_ , and Doflamingo wonders if he wants to fuck Law or wring his neck. His cock is most agreeable with the first option.

Despite his thoughts, Doflamingo smiles and runs a tongue over his lips, as is his habit when he’s caught something in his sight. “How’s the Coliseum doing this month, Diamante?”

The conversation spoken out loud is not the important one; it’s the unspoken exchange between him and Law that matters. Their eyes and gestures convey fairly simple messages: _Where? Here. On the Seat. Are you fucking with me? No, you’re the one that’s supposed to be fucking me, yes? What a crude brat you are._

Law’s mouth curls up just barely, forming a hint of a grin that mimics Doflamingo’s own. Adjusting to living with people again had been difficult for Law when they had first taken him in, but whatever traumas he had have started to ease into the routine of Law’s life, or lack thereof. He still sleeps shockingly little, but the heavy bags under his eyes fit the dark, mysterious aesthetics Law has going on for him.

Loyalty, the thing Doflamingo requires of him, has grown into Law, etching into his very being, and it might not take long until Doflamingo can ask for the surgery for eternal life – though, it’s hardly the eternity that interests him, but the possibilities that it offers.

But anyway, his current concern is bending Law over one way or another soon. Other concerns would be important at much later time…

 

As it turns out, Law is not demanding the impossible fuck on the goddamn Heart Seat – which he is eerily fond of, but Doflamingo finds the devotion almost childishly endearing sometimes – and is very accepting of other kinds of surfaces that are much more doable.

 Much more importantly, Law is completely aware of the occasions Doflamingo has popped a boner for him. Doflamingo has to commend him – he’s not entirely sure how he’d have reacted if he had been Law. (Pft, of course he _knows_ what he would have done. Pretty much the same teasing mating dance Law has been doing around him thus far. What a little _brat_.)

“You really like to test people’s patience, don’t you?” he grunts against Law’s neck before continuing to bite and suck at the rough skin, completely ignoring the remnants of Law’s formerly terminal disease. They don’t really matter, unless the disease comes back to fuck Law in the ass – metaphorically rather than in the concrete manner that Doflamingo intends to do it now.

“Obviously it’s me that’s testing another’s patience here,” Law retorts, voice delightfully shallow as he’s pressed up against the wall of Doflamingo’s luxurious bedroom. The underlying shudder to his tone gives away his arousal, or at least would if Doflamingo didn’t feel Law’s erection against his leg.

 Youth is such a wonderful thing, isn’t it? It’s so easy to work them up.

                      Not that Doflamingo is old.

                      Because he is not.

                      Really.

 “Uh-huh,” Doflamingo huffs between mouthfuls of Law’s skin, spreading bite marks in his wake as he rubs his leg up against Law’s crotch. The sound that Law makes seems to go straight to Doflamingo’s cock, too, if the tightening desire that prickles at his loins says anything.

Law’s pretty silent in intimacy, too – which is a pity, since Doflamingo rather enjoys knowing other people know of his sexual exploits.

 It’s acceptable, though, since Law’s clothes won’t hide the marks from Doflamingo’s teeth and hands. It’s a proclamation that can’t be unnoticed.

 Up close, Law’s body is all the more enticing. He has good stamina, this Doflamingo already knows from watching over his sparring sessions with Diamante, so there’s no real reason to hold back the foreplay.

Law’s impatience puts a stop to that fairly quickly, though: he rolls his hips irritably, golden eyes half-lidded as they glare at Doflamingo with the unvoiced request, or a demand, and Doflamingo thinks it’s good he had picked up lube and condoms before getting busy with Law.

“All good things come in due time,” he croons, smirks against Law’s lips, where his mouth has wandered to now. Law’s a pretty good kisser, the control admirable and spit almost nonexistent. All in all, a pretty ideal package for smooches, but Doflamingo’s not really into that in the long run. What he wants to know is whether Law’s ass feels as good as it looks in those custom-designed pants of his.

 

Well.

It feels even better than it looks, which is not an impossible feat, but it still takes Doflamingo by surprise as he sticks his manmeat into a well-prepped Law. It’s all rather pleasant, other than the fact that Doflamingo’s cock is a little too big, which is something he had thought he would never come to say.

Law seems to like ‘em big, though, which is a relief. Much less bitching that way, and much more time to get adjusted to Law’s tightness and the sensation of his dick ascending to the heaven of dicks. “Shit,” escapes his mouth, and it sounds a little too awed to his own ears too. Law even snickers, though he’s the one taking up an oversized dick up his ass at the moment.

"At your own pace,” Law shrugs at him once he’s adjusted well enough, his ears tinted a bit red from the foreplay’s exertion. “You’re not getting any younger, and considering the amount of alcohol you consume, you have a higher risk for heart-related diseases.”

 “You want to get spanked?” Doflamingo snorts back, irritation grating at his nerves as Vergo’s words about the middle-life crisis come back to him. He’s not even forty yet!

“Hmm,” Law says, playing the enigmatic part once more, though now there’s that smug smirk that Doflamingo is sure Law’s picked up from him. “I wonder.”

“That’s for later, then,” Doflamingo decides with a hard thrust of his hips, lips curling as Law’s voice comes out in a sharp keening sound. It’s satisfying to watch Law’s body tremble underneath him as sweat drops linger on heated skin. And fuck what Vergo would say, but it does make Doflamingo feel younger, more invigorated. Even though _he’s not even forty yet._

 It’s also satisfying to bury his condom-wrapped cock deep into Law’s ass and to feel shudders go through his own body.

Ejaculation is only a matter of time and effort, but well, he sure hopes it won’t happen too soon. That would be embarrassing. Law would never shut up about it, either, except probably around other family members.

 

The fucking itself is beautifully fast-paced and satisfying for him; Law really can take quite a lot. A battlefield is different than bedroom activities, but the latter offers its own insight, and Doflamingo receives valuable information that… afternoon. Well. They’re both insatiable and impatient people, so why wait for the evening to come?

Doflamingo’s hips ache by the time he finishes, same as his back (and not because of his age, thank you very much), but he’s sated and it’s good and Law’s silent again, probably until he gets into another argument with Baby 5. Law’s also covered in his own sperm, which makes the sight of his exhausted body all the more alluring, and Doflamingo briefly amuses himself with the thought of a second round.

 …Nah, he has business plans to arrange.

The condom is easy to dispose of on his way to the throne room, once again in his usual get-up, while Law stays behind composing himself and probably taking a bath. Doflamingo wonders if he’s going to make it back in time to catch Law in the bathtub. That might be a nice way to spend the evening.

So fuck Vergo and his middle-life crisis theory – Doflamingo has never felt better.


End file.
